After the Fall
by hugsfromhiddles
Summary: Sherlock has returned to Baker Street, but nightmares of his time away have kept him up. John notices something is wrong and confronts him about it. Johnlock.


After the fall, Sherlock was never quite the same. He returned to Baker Street and, after a (both mentally and physically) painful reunion with John, seemed to get back into the swing of things relatively easily. He and John had even made their relationship official. But he never told the good doctor just what had happened in the two years he had been gone. In fact, every time John had mentioned it, the detective steered clear of the subject until he finally stopped asking altogether. Yet the mystery still nagged in the back of John's head, and he was determined to find out what Sherlock had been doing all that time away from him.

"John, please." Sherlock shook his head. "I can't tell you. I just can't." John sighed at Sherlock's reaction to the question, the reaction he had gotten countless times before. This time was different though. Something about the taller man's eyes had changed. It was almost as if Sherlock _wanted _to tell him his story, but something was holding him back.

"Tell me. I know you want to." John's expression softened, trying to coax out the part of Sherlock that only he knew existed, that vulnerable piece of him that very rarely came out. Sherlock buried his face in his hands, then gave John a pleading and rather pathetic look.

"I do. I want you to know every part of me, every part of my life. But I just can't. I'm sorry John." The doctor could not fight with Sherlock, not in his current state. He had acquired quite a soft spot for the rare occasions that this part of him showed, especially after being separated from him for so long. So, rather than pressing the issue, John turned his attention back to the book in his lap.

It was 4:00 in the morning and Sherlock was wide awake. Not for the usual reason, as he hadn't been on a case in nearly a week, but because of the nightmares. They were new to him, only appearing after he returned to London not five months ago. And they had haunted him almost every night since, reminding him of the horrible things he had seen and the terrible things he himself had done in his time away. He felt trapped. The only way to get rid of the dreams was to tell someone about them, but no one could know about them. He would not put that burden on someone else; having it on himself was bad enough.

"Morning," John smiled as he handed Sherlock a mug of coffee and took a seat opposite him. Sherlock yawned in response and accepted the coffee. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep?" Sherlock shrugged. If John hadn't been sleeping so deeply himself he would have known that the detective had been right there next to him, not sleeping a wink. John sighed. "You should get more sleep, especially when you're not on a case. It's not healthy to be awake so long." Sherlock nodded, pretending to agree with him. He desperately wished he could tell John about his nightmares, but that just wasn't an option right now.

"Do you have to go to work today?" Sherlock asked, sounding just as exhausted as he felt. John chuckled, taking one of Sherlock's hands in his own.

"Unfortunately, yes. It's just been a holiday weekend, and people tend to get themselves hurt during those." Sherlock nodded slowly, looking disappointed.

"Oh, right. I had hoped we could have some time together though," he said, sounding much like a rejected child. John squeezed his hand.

"I'll be home before dinner, alright? We can do whatever you want then." He smiled, then looked into Sherlock's eyes. "We need to talk about your nightmares too." Sherlock flinched a little.

"How do you know about that?" he asked, surprised.

"Don't think you're the only one who can deduce something around here. I care about you Sherlock, and I've noticed you hardly sleep anymore. Something's been bothering you ever since you got home, and I want to help. You've helped me so much, you know, and it's hardly fair." John finished the rest of his coffee and gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek before heading for the door. "I have to go to work now. We'll talk later."

Sherlock sighed, a mix of anxiety and relief. He wasn't sure what to tell John since he couldn't very well bring up his time away, but he thought he might burst if he had to keep it to himself much longer. He only hoped that John would understand.

Sherlock was asleep on the sofa when John returned from the hospital, laying in a ridiculous position and snoring softly. John smiled, glad to see that his brilliant detective had finally gotten at least a little rest. He was reluctant to wake him up, and instead went to work fixing dinner from the very limited supply of groceries available.

"Sherlock, wake up," John said quietly, sitting on a very small part of the couch that Sherlock wasn't occupying and brushing the dark curls from his face. "Time for dinner." The taller man groaned; he was never fond of eating and probably wasn't entirely pleased to be woken up. "I know, I'm sorry for waking you, but you have to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, okay?" Sherlock nodded tiredly and allowed John to help him to his feet.

Once they were seated at the kitchen table, John spoke up. "So you slept a bit, yeah? No bad dreams?" Sherlock nodded.

"For once, yeah. You're wondering when I was going to tell you about the nightmares, I can tell. And I wish I could, but it's…complicated."

"You think I won't understand," John said matter-of-factly. "You think there's a chance that I'll think you're crazy and leave you, right?" Sherlock nodded shyly. "That's not going to happen, Sherlock. You've kind of stopped surprising me by now. I've accepted you, and that means accepting all of the strange things that come with you. Alright? Now tell me." Sherlock was taken aback and was silent for a few seconds before speaking hesitantly.

"This is different, John. It could ruin us and everything we've built. Are you sure you want that trouble?" The look John gave served as a response itself, and Sherlock took a deep breath before continuing. "It has to do with…the time I spent away, after the fall. I was out to destroy Moriarty's web, I had to make sure you were safe. It was during this time that I decided I couldn't live without you. I would do anything to return to you as quickly as possible. So I did my work quickly. I was smarter than them, and it wasn't hard to hunt them all down after Jim was dead. Everything was going fine, until I tried to return home."

John leaned forward in his seat, anxious to finally be hearing the details of Sherlock's ventures. He wasn't sure he was entirely ready for them, however, if they had caused the detective such horrible dreams.

"The last man I had to deal with was in France, close to Paris. I finished him off, and planned to return to London that night. I could hardly wait to be back at Baker Street with you. However, my plans did not work out the way I had hoped. Somewhere in my time hunting down Moriarty's minions, I had gotten back into drugs. I honestly cannot recall how it happened, but I was not in a good place. I promised myself I would be completely clean before I came back to you. That turned out to be a more challenging endeavor than I had originally thought."

"So you could have come back here before you did?" John interrupted, looking hurt. "Why didn't you just come home? I could have helped you…"

"I know that now," Sherlock sighed, taking both of John's hands. He seemed to be close to tears, which was a very strange look on the normally stone-cold features of the dark-haired man. "I didn't know if you would take me back then, especially if I was an addict. It was the hardest decision I have ever made." John nodded in understanding, trying to relieve Sherlock of some of his obvious pain.

"It would have been a difficult one on my part too, Sherlock. It's alright. Please continue."

"Well, like I said, I was in a bad place, and it had to get worse before it got better. I was in with the wrong crowd, frequenting dark alleys and using less-than-legal methods of acquiring money. I didn't know how to get out, especially since everyone that would have been willing to help thought I was dead. My head wasn't on right, and I did some bad things. Things I will never forgive myself for, and I know you never could. But eventually I got out, and I'm back here. I know it's over, but I can't help but remember all the things I did."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. John had questions, Sherlock could tell. And he would answer them, even if it hurt them both to do so. It was killing him to hide things from John.

"How did you get out?" the shorter man asked. Sherlock sighed. This was one question that would be hard for him to answer, for several reasons.

"Like I said, it got worse before it got better. I was in a group of about three others who were in the same boat. I would have never been able to leave while they were still alive, so I had to assure that they weren't." John stared, wide-eyed, as Sherlock's words sunk in.

"You mean, you…killed them?"

"Yes. I had to. Though I refuse to regret it since it brought me back to you."

"Sherlock, I know you better than anyone. You're not a killer." John said, almost pleading, wishing Sherlock was lying. The detective looked down at his lap.

"I may not be now, but under the right circumstances anyone can be. I recognized the necessity of my actions, and did what I had to do. Just like the time you shot that cabbie for my sake."

"Sherlock, that was different."

"How so?"

"I…don't know." John stuttered, trying to find the right words, but realizing that Sherlock was right. "Okay, but you're here now. That's all that matters, right?"

"I wish it were that easy, John," Sherlock said. "I am happier than you know to be here with you, but my past haunts me nonetheless. I'm afraid that can't be helped." John nodded gravely. No matter how much he wanted to protest, he knew that Sherlock was correct. He would do everything he could to make Sherlock happy and keep him safe, but he couldn't protect him from his own mind.

"I love you," John said softly. "And I'll always be here for you. There are some things I can't do, but I'm going to do everything I can, alright? You're not the only one who can make some dramatic ordeal over protecting someone." Sherlock nodded, and smiled for what seemed like the first time in months.

"Thank you, John. I love you as well. Now you said we could do whatever I wanted when you got home. I say it's time for a Doctor Who marathon." John grinned and shook his head; he never should have gotten Sherlock into science fiction.

This wasn't over, it wouldn't be for some time. There was far too much that needed to be cleared up before things would be back to normal. But for now, the two of them were content to enjoy each other's presence. After all, it was never a guaranteed thing, something they knew far better than most. Sherlock was simply glad to be home with his doctor, while John was happy for the safe return of his detective.


End file.
